The Magic Fingers
by Eloise Gooding III
Summary: When a girl walks into the pie hole, they find she has the magic finger and the same last name as Ned.  What makes her different than Ned?  Just the fact she's a mute.  Pre-Chuck.
1. I Need to get a Job

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pushing Daisies or any of characters. Alana is mine, but no one else is. Bleh. Okay, I know Ned's last name is never mentioned so I just used the last name of the actor who portrayed him, Lee Pace.**

It's been a long day. I lost my job, my house, my boyfriend, and my tequila. I need a drink. I looked around the place where the bus dropped me off. Coeur d' Coeur? Didn't look like my kind of place, but right now I didn't care. I headed into this weird building shaped like a pie. Maybe they sell pie….

I took I seat at the counter instead of at a booth. This blonde chick came over and handed me a menu. Pie, pie, pie… maybe that's why it's called the pie hole.

"How're you doing?" She asked me with a sickly sweet voice and a bright smile.

I shrugged and pointed at the cherry pie on the menu, making her frown.

"Not a talkative girl are you?" She asked. I smiled and pulled out my notepad.

_I'm a mute._

I wrote into my notepad and showed the words to her.

"Oh, darling I didn't realize!" She put her hand over her mouth and took away my menu.

I use a notepad because I never bothered to learn sign language. No one uses it anymore, so I just write stuff down in my plain gray notebook.

A tall man placed a slice of cherry pie in front of me.

"Hi, I'm Ned the owner," he said.

I smiled at him and grabbed my pen.

_Alana._

He tilted his head and I wrote some more.

_It's my name… I'm a mute._

"Oh, I, uh, didn't realize, uh, I'm going to, uh," he stumbled to find the right words, when the bell above the door jingled, "Emerson! Do you have any new news?"

He rushed over to the plump man who came into the door, obviously trying to get out of the conversation. I rolled his eyes at his rabbit-like nervousness and continued eating the piece of heaven. However, despite my best efforts, I eavesdropped on their conversation. Okay, so my perhaps I was trying to hear, but either way I overheard their conversation about… a dead guy. Mystery solving… my expertise. You can do it Alana. Just walk over their and ask for a job.

I took a deep breath and walked over their writing out what I was going to say.

_I hear you're a PI. I want a job._

"Sorry, not hiring," he said and he went back to the file.

_I want no pay, well, actually just enough to pay rent._

"I said I'm not hiring," he said more firmly. I blew air upwards so it made my strawberry blond bangs fly for a moment.

_I have a magic finger._

I gulped. Was I right in telling him this? What if he turns me in to some scientist? I shouldn't have, but it was too late.

"I already have a magic finger," Emerson motioned to Mr. Head-Tilted-Mouth-Open.

_Two fingers are better than one!_

"Olive!" Ned called, "We're closing up early you can leave!"

"Alrighty, boss!" Olive grabbed her stuff and changed the open sign to closed.

"What kind of magic finger do you have?" Emerson asked me.

_Promise not to tell?_

"Fine, I promise," he replied exasperated.

_I can bring the dead back to life._

Both of them grew wide-eyed. I knew I shouldn't have told these complete strangers about my powers.

"You shouldn't be able to do that! I can do that and I thought I was the only one. Emerson, why can she do that?"

Emerson rolled his eyes.

_You can bring the dead back to life. You're probably luckier than me, because I can only keep the dead alive for 60 seconds. If I keep them alive more than 60 seconds, some one else dies. First touch life, second touch death… forever._

"I would say I am not luckier than you. I feel luck does not need to be involved. I have the same terms, what's your last name?"

I felt the last question was irrelevant, but I answered anyway.

_Pace_

Ned's eyes grew large again and he cocked his head. Again. Did I mention his mouth was open… again?

_Is looking confused and nervous a habit of yours?_

I got a grunt from Emerson, probably supposed to be a laugh.

"I look confused and nervous when I am confused and nervous like right now. Right now I'm confused and nervous because my last name is Pace. I'm sure it's just a coincidence, but is it really a coincidence that we both have the magic touch? How old are you?"

Another odd question.

**Author's note: The facts were these: When young Ned was nine and some weeks old, he was sent off to a boarding school. Ned's father had already started a new family with a model. Together they had a daughter and then a set of twin boys. The boys grew up to be magicians and the girl grew up to be a chemist. After an accident in the lab, she was kicked out. Not having enough money to pay for rent she lost her house. Her boyfriend had broken up with her shortly after. She soon moved in with her long-lost brother (for free) and worked two jobs. One was working at The Pie Hole and the other was waking the dead.**

**Okay, so this was the introduction to my new story and I hope to update… eventually. The above bolded words are just what happened before this intro and what the stuff in the intro caused. Thanks for reading. Oh, don't feel pressured to review. I don't understand why people are always like **_**if I don't get a million reviews I'm not going to update **_**I write for fun and I don't care who reads this. So review if you wish. If not, good for you! I'm going to stop babbling now. Thanks for reading!**


	2. I Need to get a Pen

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pushing Daisies or any of characters. Alana is mine, but no one else is. Bleh.**

_So what's the scoop?_

I took off my apron and sat down in the booth with Emerson and Ned. I placed a piece of pie in front Codd. It had been a month and I'd learned how things worked around here.

"Dead guy," Emerson grunted as he pulled out a manila folder. I gave him the _I'm-not-amused _look and took the folder from him. I flipped through the photos of a really handsome young man. One of them showed him dead in a street. Probably just a random murder, Emerson doesn't usually take cases like this. I turned up towards him and, upon seeing my quizzical look, he told us the details.

"Died in the street, but his girlfriend said he had enemies and problems at work," Emerson explained what the man's girlfriend told him when she came in, "And she had extra dough."

_Dammit. Not only is he not single, but he's dead too._

"Do you have a crush on a dead guy? A dead guy with a distraught girlfriend?" Ned stared at me and I just shrugged in response, leaving him even more confused. Poor Neddy… poor confused Neddy.

_So, Emma, where do you suppose we start?_

Emerson took my pencil and snapped it in half. He threw both halves over his shoulder where Olive picked them up. Emerson hates my nickname for him. In fact that's the third pencil he's broken. I need to start using pens….

"Well, I suppose we start by talking to the dead guy. Like we usually do," Emerson said with that 'duh' tone in his voice. He pushed the empty pie plate in front of him and I picked it up with one hand and went into the kitchen. Olive was in there cleaning the counter. She handed me a pen with purple ink. I smiled at her and in my note pad, I wrote, _Thanks_.

"No problem! Hey Ned!" She shouted out to my brother, "I'm leaving now!"

A muffled okay came in response and Olive grabbed her stuff and left. I walked back out into the dining area as Emerson started to scoop up his stuff.

_So… tomorrow morning?_

"Yes," Ned replied since Emerson didn't even look at me before he left. I think he hates me. You may say that underneath it all he doesn't hate me, but seriously he hates everyone. Nearly everyone. He likes Ned. He definitely likes Ned better than me. Out of the two of us, people have always liked him better. Even dad liked him better. He dropped me off at boarding school and Ned, I presume, got to live with dad for a long time.

_I'm heading up to bed._

OoOoO

_Why am I always in the back seat?_

I shoved my notepad into Emerson's face.

"Easy. Ned drives and I have priority," Emerson grunted.

_You shouldn't grunt. It makes you sound like a pig._

Emerson grabbed my notepad and kept it with him for the rest of the car ride. I pouted in the back seat even though I should be glad he didn't rip it in half. Of course, Ned is completely oblivious to the conversation and thinks I have my notepad with me.

We finally pull up to our destination. I take no hesitation of getting out of the car and tackling Emerson. Of course, he doesn't even struggle to stay up and I grasp onto his neck. His two feet stay firmly planted on the ground as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the notepad. What a sight we were to Neddy.

"You took her notepad?" Ned asked Emerson, shocked. Emma snorted. I opened my notepad and crossed out the word grunt and wrote snort.

_You shouldn't snort. It makes you sound like a pig._

Ned laughed and Emerson glared at the two of us, "Let's just go talk to a dead guy.

**Hoorah! Sorry it's a little short, but this was mainly to build up relationships between people. Not a lot of Olive in this chapter, but in a few more chapters she may or may not have a larger role. By the end of this story, Chuck will have not appeared, so sorry CC fans. Hope you liked this chapter and you will not be disappointed with the next one!**


	3. I Need to get a Costume

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pushing Daisies or any of characters. Alana is mine, but no one else is. Muahahaha! *Cough***

_Oh! Me! Pick me! Can I do it this time?_

"No," Emerson barely glanced at my notepad before he answered. He probably knew what I was going to ask.

I pulled out my itouch and as soon as Ned touched that man's gorgeously shaped cheekbone I started the timer.

"Hey, do I know you guys? Hey you," he motioned to me as he talked in his incredibly hot british accent, "You look like my girlfriend? Where is she? Oh no, am I dead?"

"Yes, and we need to know who killed you." Ned replied thankful that the man's bullet wound was still covered.

"Oh yeah, I got a real good look at him. He had pale skin, orange hair, and really big feet. He was a clown. I was killed by a clown!"

I nudged Ned, to let him know he had ten seconds.

"Tell my girlfriend, I love her." How sweet, those were the last words he said. And he looked right at me, so that means the last thing he saw _looked _like his girl friend. How precious is that?

_Well, we have a lead! :D_

"Except I don't get paid for learning, 'the clown did it,' I get paid for giving names and capturing bad guys. And cross out that doodle you drew of me lecturing you."

I put on a pouty face as I scribbled over the artfully crafted drawing of Emerson with his gun pointing at the beautiful me.

_Wait a sec, isn't the county fair setting up on the outskirts of town? I've got a very good feeling that we'll find some clowns there. Or the clown agency… or the clown convention!_

"You have got to be kidding me," Emerson rubbed his head and began to walk out.

"How do you know so much about clowns?" Ned stared at me and I smiled before following Emerson out the door. I ran ahead of Emerson and into the passenger seat of Ned's car. I stuck my tongue out at Emma as he got into the back. Ned climbed into the driver's seat.

_What's the plan, Stan?_

"How old are you?" Emerson grunted.

_How old do you like 'em?_

"Will you guys just cool it?" Ned angrily asked. Wow, I've never seen him get angry before.

"I say we split up. Someone goes to the fair someone to clown school and someone at the convention," Emerson suggested.

_I feel sorry for whoever has to go undercover at the agency!_

They both look at me and the next thing I know I'm dressed as a mime and in the clown agency.

**Just a filler, but at least I updated!**


	4. I Need to Get a Date

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pushing Daisies or any of characters. Alana is mine, but no one else is. Muahahaha! *Cough***

"So what makes you feel like you have what it takes to be part of Happy Happy Clown Clown Agency?" Bobo the Manager asked me. I smiled sweetly and mimed growing up. I mimed being a mime. He understood.

"I notice you are very serious about miming, but for the purposes of the interview, you may speak."

I shook my head no and motioned to my throat.

"Ah, I see you are certainly qualified. Eh hugh hugh!" He poked me in the chest with his finger.

"How about experience?" He asked.

I gave him a thumbs-up and adjusted an imaginary hat.

"Very good! Alright! You're hired!" I smiled and pulled out my notepad.

_Why do you have an opening all of a sudden?_

The clown's smile faded and he scratched his bright orange hair, "One of our clowns recently… retired…"

He was a terrible liar. I raised an eyebrow.

"Okay! I'll tell you! My, what a silver tongue you have! He went missing. No one knows where… or why…"

I was intrigued and it must have shown on my face. Bobo stood up abruptly and I knew I wasn't going to get any more information out of him.

"Well, when we have an event booked for a mime, we know who to call! Bye now, have a nice day!"

He ushered me out of the room and I found myself in the lobby once more. I went to the left and entered the locker room. The first thing I did was remove the makeup and hat. I slid the tight shirt off and placed it in my locker. I turned around to grab my blouse and saw a clown staring at me. I couldn't scream, but there was no need. He ran off immediately.

I let a shiver run down my spine and continued to get dressed as quickly as my shaking hands would allow. I practically ran out of the locker rooms and crashed into… the victim?

_James Robertson?_

"No, no, no! You must have me confused with my brother. I'm Harry!" He said in that amazing accent. I practically swooned at his smile.

_I'm Alana Pace, an acquaintance of your brother._

"May I ask you a question? Why do you use that notepad?" He furrowed his brows, but he still looked dreamy.

_Mute... Now it's my turn to ask you a question. Where's your brother been? I haven't seen him in a while._

His face grew grim and he looked instantly older, "Have you not heard? My brother's been killed."

_Oh, I'm so sorry. It must be hard for you right now. I would love to chat some more, but I'm in a hurry._

"How about I take you out to dinner, Alana?"

My heart leapt. A date with a super hunky British guy? Not only that, but it would be a great way to learn some leads.

I nodded my head and smiled. I scribbled on a page of my gray notepad and ripped it out. Putting my hand to my ear in the shape a phone, I mouthed the words 'call me' and left.

OoOoO

"You _what_? Three people shouted at me. Ned, with a nervous expression on his face. Emerson, with a surprised look on his face. And Olive, with a jealous look on her face.

"Are you crazy? What if he's the real killer?" Ned exclaimed.

"Of course not! He sounds too nice," Olive nodded.

"Well, what was he doing at a clown agency?" Ned leaned in and whispered. I put my pen to my paper, but no words formed. Why _was_ he at the clown agency?

_But if he's not the killer, then maybe he know something about who might have done it. I'm positive it has to do with that weird clown agency. One of their men had just gone missing. AND it's full of perverts! Don't make me go back there!_

"Well, that makes sense, I didn't find anything interesting at the fair," Ned nodded his head and shuddered at an odd memory.

"Clown convention was hopeless. All those people with nothing to do with their lives," Emerson spoke up.

"Oh, you guys are investigating clowns?" Olive asked, "Can I help?"

"No," Emerson's answer almost came as quickly as it did when I asked him for something. Ned and I gave her sympathetic looks as she walked away to help some customers.

That night, my brother drove me to Harry's house on his way to run some errands. He waited in the driveway while I knocked on the door. I may be short, but my scarlet dress looked great on me and brought out the pink in my strawberry blonde hair.

I rang the doorbell after it had been about a minute. Still, Harry didn't answer. I tapped my foot and the flats I wore clacked on the cement. I turned to his window. His lights were on. I pressed my nose to the glass and nearly barfed. Harry lay, on the floor facedown. Blood flowed down the back of his head. This wound was fresh and must've happened while I was here. I turned back to the driveway, but Ned had already left. Instead, I saw a man running towards me. He had a rag in one hand and ropes in the other.

Knowing what was in store for me if I let him catch me, I ran as fast I could down the street. Where was I supposed to go? The pie hole was too far, and I don't have time to knock on anybody's door. There was only one place I could run to right now.

I turned around and saw that my masked persuer was getting closer. I was also starting to get tired, but I focused on running. Right, left, right, left. I willed my feet to carry my faster. I threw the door of my destination open and ran up the stairwell, two steps at a time. I could hear the man's clunking feet racing me to the top. When I reached the second floor, I threw the correct door open and silently shut it so that I could hide. I collapsed in front of Emerson's desk and breathed as easy as I could.

He just stared at me.

The door flew open again and there was the man, gun pointing directly at Emerson.

"Oh, hell no!" Emerson shouted at me.

**Note: Here is the chapter! Yay, I FINALLY updated! I've been really focused on my other stories though… I had a massive case of writer's block for this one, but lately I've been staring and staring at this half-written chapter on my desktop and knew I should do something with it. That happens to me a lot, actually.**


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